


These Moments We Should Have Cherished

by Jadzibelle



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Season 1, Slice of Life story, Social drinking, The Grey Gull, set between 1.10 & 1.11, stories about cryptids, unwelcome advances (oc)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: Gift fic for the Haven winter exchange for CookieDoughMeAgain !____Audrey and Julia hang out at the Gull after work and exchange stories.  Duke plays the gallant and makes them dessert.  They pass a pleasant evening.
Relationships: Audrey Parker & Duke Crocker, Audrey Parker & Julia Carr, Julia Carr & Duke Crocker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Haven 2020 Gift Exchange





	These Moments We Should Have Cherished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CookieDoughMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/gifts).



“You know,” Julia said, stabbing her straw into the chunky bit of ice at the bottom of her... third? Third, Audrey thought, though she wasn’t exactly keeping close count, strawberry daiquiri, “Of all the things I thought he might end up doing, running a restaurant wasn’t one of them.”

Audrey dragged her swizzle stick loaded with olives in a slow circle through her definitely-third martini, and made a quiet hum of acknowledgement, though it took her a moment to catch up to what Julia meant. “Oh, Duke? Yeah, that- it worked out pretty well.”

“Your doing?” Julia asked, looking up, and Audrey almost resented how many people there were in the Gull right then, because really, she had had a long day and she wasn’t feeling particularly patient- but it was a good thing that the place was packed, that there were people lined up to reach the bar, that the tables were full and the patio crowded. It meant she’d guessed right, that her impulsive solution might really work. “I should’ve guessed, seems like you’ve got your fingers in a lot of pies already.”

“Not exactly,” Audrey hedged, making another circle in her drink. “There was just- it’s kind of a long story. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Seems to be working out.” And that was nice. Satisfying. Yeah, actually, it was satisfying, and her momentary flash of irritation from before fizzled out, the press of the crowd warming instead of grating. She should probably not have had two and a half martinis on an empty stomach after the day she’d had, come to think of it, but it was a little late to be worrying about it, and she was allowed to build up a pleasant buzz once in a while.

“This is a town for long stories,” Julia said agreeably, before her expression flickered. Audrey wasn’t sure what to make of it, grief or anger. Or maybe both. They’d always felt the same to Audrey, the hollow empty heat under her ribs, so maybe it was both. Either way, Audrey shifted on her barstool, just enough to press her knee into Julia’s, a small sign of support that neither of them had to talk about. That, she could manage, and that, it seemed, Julia could accept.

It was an odd bond they were forming, grieving Eleanor and searching out secrets, trying to figure out the truth behind the mothers neither of them seemed to have really known. Odd, and not exactly easy.

Hence the drinking on a Tuesday night.

At least the Gull was packed, so they didn’t look out of place. Though this many people meant that the coroner’s files that they’d intended to look over more were still tucked away in Julia’s battered satchel. They had started to take them out, earlier, and the _look_ Duke had given them in passing had been enough to convince them both to reconsider. Audrey didn’t _really_ think Duke would have been annoyed enough to throw them out, but she didn’t want to chance it. She liked the Gull, people and all, liked the strange eclectic look that somehow managed to feel more welcoming than most places she’d been.

Or maybe she just liked the owner, but she wasn’t going to admit to that. She couldn’t have him getting too confident about things just yet, after all; it would disturb their careful balance of cautious truths and favors owed. And she might still be a little mad at him for keeping _such_ a secret from her, even if she understood, intellectually, that as personal as it was for her, it had to be equally so for him- and that _was_ the kind of truth that needed to be earned.

She rubbed her temple, and Julia pressed her knee back against hers, and Audrey managed a smile. Faint, wry, but still, a smile.

“It really is,” she agreed. “I’m sure racking them up.”

“I noticed,” Julia said, with a similar smile. “Those articles- was the wolf thing really rabies?”

“What articles?” Audrey asked, and Julia’s expression went pinched.

“Sorry,” she said, “That- wasn’t actually you. Wow, this is- this is _weird_ , right? Gotta be even weirder for you, I guess. At the Knot, there were some articles, in a drawer- articles about you. Mostly out of the Herald.”

“Oh.” Audrey drank the rest of her martini in one go, because yeah, it _was_ weird. Very weird. And painful. “No, it wasn’t rabies.”

“...Was it werewolves?” Julia asked, after a second, looking wary, clearly afraid the answer might be _yes_.

“No. That was my first guess,” Audrey said, shaking her head, and considering flagging Nora down for another martini. Julia laughed, a note of relief in it, and Audrey gave her a wry smile. “Taxidermy Trouble.”

“Oh,” Julia said, and the relief faded slightly. “Somehow I think werewolves might’ve been better.”

“Yup,” Audrey agreed, popping the ‘p’ a little deliberately. “At least that would have kind of made sense.” And wouldn’t have left her with a permanent sense of the creeps every time she walked past the dry cleaners. She should probably drop by and check in on Landon, at some point. Or send Nathan. Yeah, maybe she’d suggest it to Nathan.

“Growing up here...” Julia said, her eyes going distant, “You learn to believe in things. You learn... not to dismiss any possibilities, even when it sounds impossible. I wanted to, you know? I wanted to be able to- to dismiss things. To believe in the concrete, the real. I went into medicine, I spent eight years- I mean, you have to, to _believe_ in science, to do the job, to trust that cutting someone open or stitching them closed or using poisons to kill a cancer is- is worth it. And I got- I got okay at it, you know, at leaning on the science, at trusting what could be repeated and proved, demonstrated in controlled conditions, but this town... It stays with you. No matter how far you run.”

Audrey didn’t say anything, brows furrowing as she listened, as she let Julia find her way to the story she wanted to tell.

“I heard stories, out in the bush, in little villages, in distant cities, things that the other doctors would laugh about, sometimes. Make fun of. But I never could. Growing up here, you learn not to dismiss the possibilities.” She paused again, and shook her head. “Have you ever heard of an adjule?”

“...No,” Audrey said. “What is it?”

“A story,” Julia said, shrugging. “A bush dog, supposedly. I treated a man who warned me, said... That if our camp ever started fighting over nothing, to take a heavy stick and go into the tent and stay there, no matter how angry I was. I asked why, I mean- I knew it was a bad idea to go wandering alone, anyway, but I didn’t understand the first part. And he said the adjule, they can creep around the edges of a camp and leave chaos, anger, behind, and when everyone is distracted, they pick off the careless ones. I wanted to think it was just- superstition. Just a story.”

“But?” Audrey prompted, after a moment, because Julia’s eyes were still distant.

“One night, we’d had a pretty good day. That’s why it stood out, we’d had a- a surprisingly good day. We got to a little girl early, with something- we knew she was going to be okay, we’d done our vaccinations fine, it- we were tired, of course, but not- a fight broke out over dinner, around the fire. And I remember feeling just- _so_ angry. So fed up, I just wanted to get as far away from everyone as I could. And I did, I got up from the fire, to go clear my head, I wasn’t going to go far, but I needed- but I remembered what that man had told me. I remembered his warning, so I grabbed one of the walking sticks out of the jeep, and I went to my tent.

“And there was- there was this _shape_. I only saw it for a second. And maybe it was just a wild dog, maybe it was a jackal, it was too small to be a leopard, but- but it was lurking, it was _watching_. I could just- _feel it_. And we’d had animals near the camp before, we’d heard lions a few times, we’d had a leopard, and there’s a feeling, when you’re being hunted, there’s a sense- it’s visceral, but this was different. This was... more, somehow. And I lifted the stick, and held it up for the thing to see, so it’d know I’d seen it, and it just. Wasn’t there anymore.”

“Oh,” Audrey said, quietly.

“I spent months trying to convince myself I’d just seen a jackal, that I’d let my imagination run away with me. People fight, animals circle camps, it didn’t have to be anything. But I never forgot. I never forgot what it felt like, seeing it watching.” Julia finished her drink, the hollow slurp of the last of the liquid in the straw jarring, a sharp reminder of time and place that didn’t fit the feeling Julia’s words had evoked. “I felt it, for a moment, in the foyer at the Knot. When I found the first- shed. I felt that same sense of something being- _wrong_ , of something _watching_. Something assessing.”

“I’ve never been anywhere quite like Haven,” Audrey said slowly, reaching for the right words, the right- sentiment. “But I’ve found, over the years... It’s not necessarily about where you are. When my boss sent me up here, he warned me, he said he wanted things _by the book_. Because I kept finding things that just- weren’t. That didn’t quite fit. And I was- I was good at closing cases, but I didn’t exactly close them the way the Bureau might’ve preferred, you know? Because sometimes, there were things that just- that required a little more of an open mind.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Julia said, but her shoulders had relaxed a little, and her eyes were focused again. She was back, from wherever her memories had taken her. “I’d like to imagine there’s _somewhere_ out there that’s normal.”

“Eh. Normal’s overrated,” Audrey said, and Julia snorted, and the rest of the tension faded.

None too soon, it seemed, as Nora paused in front of them and placed another pair of drinks down. Audrey looked up at her with furrowed brows, because Nora knew not to bring her anything she didn’t ask for, particularly when it was getting later, and Nora shrugged.

“Guy at the end of the bar,” she explained, with a roll of her eyes. “Told him you two were busy, but he was insistent. Made them light, like you asked.”

“Thanks anyway,” Audrey said, and Nora nodded and went back to the center of the bar and the slowly thinning crowd of patrons. Audrey considered the uninvited drink, and gave Julia a questioning look.

“No reason to waste ‘em,” Julia offered, shrugging. “He wants to spend his money, that’s his problem.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Audrey agreed, raising the martini glass, and Julia tapped the daiquiri against the rim.

“What- I mean, before you came here. Was it ever this kind of- complicated?” Julia asked, and Audrey mulled the question over against the bite of the gin. She had seen a lot of weirdness, she’d seen a lot of things that were difficult to explain, but this kind of complicated?

“Not... quite like this,” Audrey said. “It’s- Haven’s definitely pretty high on the weird-o-meter. Things are a little more... hm, definite? Definite, here. It’s not so much feelings or intuitions, it’s-”

She broke off as a man settled himself on Julia’s other side, very much inside her personal space, which might have been acceptable where the crowd was thickest but definitely wasn’t on their end of the bar, and certainly not with the deliberateness of the movement.

“Ladies,” he said, in a drawl that immediately raised Audrey’s hackles. “What are two pretty little things like you doing sitting here all on your lonesome?”

“Having a private conversation,” Audrey said, her tone frosty as Julia shifted to try and put more space between her and the stranger. “With each other.”

“Well that just won’t do,” he said, leering and looking them both over, and a slow pulse of temper began ticking away in Audrey’s temples. “Shouldn’t have to drink alone, not in a place like this. C’mon, what’re we talking about, shoes, kids, I’m a great conversationalist, just try me.”

“Vaccination efforts in the Darfur region of Sudan,” Julia replied flatly. The guy blinked, clearly thrown, but not far enough.

“That’s a little esoteric, huh? What, you organizing for charity? Got plenty closer to home t’d be more worth the effort, what about one of them walk for cancer things? You both look like you get plenty of exercise.” He tried another suggestive look, moving a hand to almost trace along the back of Julia’s leg, and she abandoned polite subtlety along with her barstool, jerking away and backing toward the front door.

“ _Ugh_ ,” she offered, as she went. “C’mon, we can settle up tomorrow, Nora will understand,” she continued, but Audrey was standing as well, and not to head for the door. Her hand was already moving toward the badge still clipped to her belt, or maybe the gun at her hip, _probably_ the badge, probably, but the fierce, angry foster-kid that still lived deep in her chest was guiding her hand-

-which was pinched against her hip, a press of denim and corduroy and body heat, and there was an arm slung over her shoulder, a smell of cooking grease and sweat and salt and rum and _comfort_ , the hand that curled around her far shoulder graced with long fingers that had cradled her temples so carefully, that had danced in tune with clever stories even when bound to cuffed wrists from the day she’d first arrived, and it was only that immediate gut level recognition that kept her from slamming her elbow into Duke’s solar plexus as he crowded and contained her.

“You know you two can settle up whenever you need,” he said, voice low and calm and full of an easy, casual _threat_ that shouldn’t have been reassuring. Audrey’s shoulders relaxed anyway, and the quick glance she cut to the side showed that Duke had his other arm slung around Julia’s shoulders just as casually, just as certainly, and she had already started to lean into his side, her satchel pulled up against her other side like a shield. “But you don’t have to leave in a hurry.”

“Sorry, Duke, but the atmosphere kind of soured,” Audrey said, trying to match his tone, his mild, steady expression, because it was habit, already, a pattern to fall into, a partnership she could lean on. It wasn’t quite as natural as it would have been with Nathan- Nathan would never have prevented her from flashing her badge- but it still _fit_. She still knew, in a way that she wasn’t used to, in a way that _settled_ her wariest instincts, that Duke’s arrival meant she had someone in her corner who could match her move for move.

“I can see that,” Duke said, something different in his voice, something darker and sharper, and Audrey didn’t miss how the guy had gone pale behind his artificial-looking tan. “You, _out_. I see you here again, I’m gonna have my security guys handle it.” Duke glanced deliberately at one corner of the room, and the guy’s eyes followed, and Audrey didn’t know if the two hulking figures at the corner table actually worked at the Gull or not, or if they were just conveniently placed to be intimidating, and honestly she didn’t care. She wouldn’t put it past Duke to have actually hired security goons for his quaint tourist bar just as a matter of course, but she’d also seen that some of his less... above-board contacts had started coming by the restaurant, so they might just be people who owed him a favor. Or who he owed a favor to.

Either way, their presence, or maybe just Duke’s, did the trick, and the guy scurried away without another word. Or paying his tab.

Duke was already lifting his arm from across her back before the guy had cleared the doorway, shifting his weight to free her hand from where he’d pinned it, his hands coming up in front of his chest in a clear gesture of apology as he moved, tracking the guy’s exit and taking himself out of their personal space in the same easy turn.

“Security guys?” Audrey asked, even as she gave the hem of her shirt a brief tug, more to clear the memory of the pressure of his side than because he’d actually mussed it. “I could’ve handled it,” she added, a little reproachfully.

“Yeah, Nora saw you about to handle it,” Duke replied, his eyes cutting down to meet hers, and a wry, genuine smile replacing the sharpness that had been there. “That’s why she came and got me. You _gotta_ stop flashing your badge in here, Audrey, you’re gonna give this place a reputation.”

“What, and you claiming you’ve got big muscle won’t?” Audrey asked, already feeling the anger starting to fade under the influence of Duke’s impossible charm.

“That is a reputation I am _cultivating_ ,” Duke replied airily. “Being a _cop bar_ isn’t.”

“You have one cop who drinks here,” Julia pointed out. “I don’t think that makes it a cop bar.”

“It will if she keeps advertising that she’s a cop,” Duke said, with a glower that was a little more real than Audrey appreciated. “You’re gonna scare my regulars away, nobody goes to cop bars to drink.”

“Just because _you_ don’t,” Audrey said, a little stung, and Duke made a face, and held his hands up again. She thought it should annoy her that she could see on his face that the surrender was only to soothe her feelings, and not because he thought she was right.

Mostly, it just gave her the same little surge of warmth she felt every time he took a step outside his clearly established rhythms to reach out to her.

“You don’t have to stay,” Duke said, after a moment, his expression going searching, and Audrey heard Julia scoff.

“I’ve still got a drink to finish,” she said, giving Duke a warm smile, one that Audrey wasn’t used to seeing people from Haven give him. It was familiar and fond and full of history, the same amusement in her eyes that she’d had when she’d joked about his hipster chin fuzz. Duke smiled back, easy and open, and he looked younger, for a moment.

“Well then, by all means,” Duke said, gesturing. “And a couple desserts, for your patience.”

“You don’t need to-” Audrey started, because she was pretty sure they wouldn’t be showing up on the bill. Honestly, it was hit or miss if the bill ever showed up, for her, even if she always made sure to offer the appropriate generous tips.

“Oh, no, he definitely does,” Julia interrupted, “we’re not turning down apology desserts.”

Duke laughed, and was already heading back toward the kitchen, and Audrey recognized a battle already lost. And really, she should probably eat.

And Duke’s chef did make a pretty amazing brownie.

Julia retook her seat, and Audrey followed suit, rolling out her neck to dispel the last of the tension. It was fine. Everything was fine. And it was kind of nice to know that she had backup, even if she didn’t need it.

“Sorry about calling in the boss,” Nora said, as she leaned over to pass a drink off to a customer, “but he wants us to let him know when people are causing problems.”

“I was only-”

“Oh, not _you_ ,” Nora cut her off, looking surprised and immediately more apologetic. “Him. Duke told us to let him know when there’s creeps hassling the customers, that’s all.”

“Now _that_ sounds like Duke,” Julia said, as Nora bustled off again, and Audrey turned a surprised look on her. It wasn’t that it actually surprised her, she’d seen how soft Duke could be, even if he tried to hide it, it was hearing someone else say it.

“Really?” she asked, and Julia nodded, stirring her drink with her straw and not actually drinking.

“Yeah. I mean, he’ll flirt, you know, but he’s- he just does it, he doesn’t _mean_ it, you know?” Julia said. “But he punched out Paul Sullivan one time for grabbing Beka Raney’s ass during gym class.”

“He did _what_ ,” Audrey asked, incredulous and kind of delighted.

“He didn’t tell you about that? Oh, it was great,” Julia said, grinning, and launching into the story. Audrey listened, and _watched_ , unable to help herself. A gesture here, an expression there, those were Eleanor, clear as day; but there were faint flicks of her fingers, or a clipped word, that she could see Duke, or hear Nathan, in. It was a strange kind of reminder; Julia _belonged_ here. Audrey had still felt almost as though Julia was the new person, arriving into the space Audrey had been carving for herself, but that wasn’t true, not really. Julia had grown up here, was _rooted_ here in a way Audrey didn’t have. Not in Haven, not anywhere, not really.

But she was starting to feel like maybe she was being invited in, invited to build something. Julia was happy to talk, to give Audrey glimpses of that shared history. Duke had walked her through the halls of his high school to try and find her answers he didn’t have. The ridiculous UoM mug Nathan had gotten for her was sitting in the cup holder of her car, with what was left of the day’s coffee cold and thick at the bottom.

Her friends had thrown her a birthday party, however ill-fated. They’d _remembered_ her birthday.

She found herself smiling, something strange and comfortable settling in her stomach as Julia described the political fallout of Duke’s teen antics, and Audrey wondered if it was possible to feel nostalgic for something she’d never actually had.

“Ladies.” Duke drawled the world as he reappeared from behind the bar a few minutes later, and it was amazing, how different it felt- playful, inviting, it felt nothing like the creep from before. Audrey was still smiling as she glanced up at him, and Julia immediately burst into laughter, and Duke’s eyebrows came together in visible consternation. “Everything okay?”

“Julia was just telling me about your adventures in gallantry,” Audrey explained, chuckling when Duke’s expression only got more wary.

“Oh really,” he said, cutting a glance over at Julia, who only laughed harder.

“You- you got in _so_ much trouble,” she managed, and Duke turned his eyes back to Audrey, one quirked eyebrow asking for elaboration.

“Apparently you punched out the captain of the football team?” Audrey offered, and Duke closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub a thumb into the furrow of his brow.

“That- might have happened, yes,” he admitted, sounding slightly pained.

“Did you really get dumped off a pier by half the team in retaliation?” Audrey asked, and Duke’s pained expression deepened.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, without any actual distress in his voice. “Seriously, Jules, why- no, never mind, come on, both of you, up, let’s go.”

“Oh, what, _this_ you’re gonna throw us out over?” Audrey asked, with a wicked smile.

“I _should_ ,” Duke said, fixing her with what was probably meant to be a stern look, which was entirely ruined by his own smile creeping into place. “This is- this is slander, and in my own establishment, this is terrible, how-”

“Where are we going?” Audrey interrupted, already moving to comply.

“Out back, come on, I’ve got a whole- I’m out here, setting up a private table, making custom desserts, and you two are in here _gossiping_ , I am just- I am outraged, really.” He was laughing, now, and he reached out to steady Julia as she stumbled a bit dismounting her stool, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright, casual and easy.

“Clearly,” Audrey said dryly, falling into step on his other side, and she was a little unsteady herself, but she thought she was hiding it pretty well. He led them back through the kitchen, a warm bloom of humid, spicy air, and out onto the back deck, where there was in fact a table set up and roped off. It was one she hadn’t seen before, a wide round ring with a deep bowl in the center full of a freshly started fire. There were plates set on the edge, large chunks of brownie with quickly melting ice cream piled on top, and a pitcher of water off to the side dripping beads of condensation to pool on the stone finish.

Three plates, and three cups, and Audrey gave Duke a knowing look.

“What, I can’t join two of my favorite people for dessert?” he asked, guiding Julia to a chair. “I mean, it only seems fair, especially if you’re going to be telling stories about me.”

“Sure, it’s definitely not just an excuse to skip out on the rest of the dinner shift,” Audrey teased, though she knew it wasn’t. Despite their teasing, Audrey had been paying attention; she knew Duke had been working, working _hard_ , getting the Gull established. She was honestly impressed- she didn’t know a damn thing about running a restaurant, but it certainly _looked_ complicated.

“Well, there’s that,” Duke returned, with a grin, pulling out a chair for Audrey and then dropping into his own. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“What, that you’re a ‘good citizen’?” she asked, laughing.

“Exactly,” he said airily. “I have a reputation to maintain as a roguish layabout.” He picked up one of the plates, and leaned back in his chair, propping his heels on the edge of the table.

“That seems unsanitary,” Julia said, before mimicking the position.

“I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t,” Audrey replied, picking up her plate. The brownie was still steaming slightly, and the ice cream was forming a thick pool around it, and she made a pleased sound as she dug into one corner with her spoon. It was exactly right, gooey and thick. It smelled like chocolate and caramel, sweet and heavy under the bite of woodsmoke and the clean salt of the water just beyond the deck.

It _tasted_ even better, rich and warm and full of subtle flavors, and Audrey hummed her pleasure as she burrowed back into her chair. The moon was low on the horizon, starting to paint a wide stripe of silver over the gentle waves of the bay. Stars gleamed overhead, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation around them seemed to match the pulse of the water as it competed with the crackle of the fire. It was a beautiful night, too warm to _need_ the fire, but not so warm that the fire was unpleasant, and even the view of the lighthouse and the strange shiver of unease it always caused just felt _familiar_ , almost comforting in its strangeness.

Audrey was starting to think she could fall in love with this view.

“So, did Julia mention, while she was telling tales out of school, how she nearly poisoned half our class during a party?” Duke asked, his spoon balanced between his long fingers like a conductor’s baton.

“I did not!” Julia squawked, but she was laughing already, eyes gleaming in the firelight.

“You so did,” Duke countered, and Audrey let herself soak in the moment, let herself relax into the way the story-slash-argument began to spill out from both of them, laughter and denials and affectionate teasing.

It was starting to feel a lot like _home_.


End file.
